Chapter 9: The Scent of Ash
The heavy oak door slammed shut behind me as I entered the war room.
"You're late," Cyran's voice was cold and condescending, as always, his sharp eyes fixed on me as I approached my preferred space, against the wall.
"Forgive me," I muttered, my gaze drifting to the others in the room. General Ferris, the grizzled war veteran, sat with his usual military stoicism. His hand twitched near the hilt of his sword, a clear sign of his growing frustration. The other advisors—Lord Eridan and Lady Maris—were present as well, their faces shadowed in grim concern.
The war room was stifling, a haze of smoke hanging heavy in the air from the braziers and Cyran's incessant pipe. Maps lay sprawled across the long table, inked with smudged lines and hastily sketched symbols. Markers stood in for troops and resources, their placement a chaotic testament to the kingdom's crumbling order. Tension hummed in the room like a coiled viper, ready to strike.
As I stood at the far end, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, my eyes flicked between the moving pieces on the board. Everyone spoke at once, overlapping voices like a cacophony of damnation.
"I'm telling you, the rebellion is stretching us thin. They're cutting trade routes to the eastern provinces—starvation will hit within the month," barked General Feris, a hulking mass of muscle and fury. His hand slammed onto the table hard enough to make one of the markers jump.
"They're using the same tactics every goddamn time. Disrupt resources, force us to divide the army," Cyran drawled, smoke curling from his lips as he lounged in his chair like this was all a game. His icy blue eyes darted to me. "And instead of dealing with that, our dear prince here is running around the slums chasing after some girl. Am I wrong?"
The jab hit its mark, and the room quieted, heads swiveling toward me. A smirk tugged at Cyran's lips, daring me to lash out.
I didn't take the bait.
Straightening from the wall, I let my boots echo purposefully against the stone floor as I walked toward the table. My gaze locked with Cyran's, unblinking, until his smirk faltered. Then I turned to the King.
"I have strong reason to believe," I said, my voice sharp and measured, "that the girl I've been tracking isn't just some petty rebel. She's part of their leadership—someone critical."
That got their attention. The room stilled. Even the king, lounging at the head of the table, leaned forward ever so slightly.
"If we catch her," I continued, "we don't just cut off one head of the snake. We'll have potential to crush the whole fucking thing."
The silence was thick, suffocating. Eyes flicked between me and the King.
"You're suggesting we allocate resources—soldiers, supplies—to help you hunt down one girl?" Feris growled, his tone incredulous. "When we're already stretched thin as it is?"
"She's not just a girl," I snapped, my patience fraying. "She could be a key. The rebellion's heart beats through her. If we take her out, the rest will crumble. Judging by the way the attack went, she was completely alone, no backup, no support, which could only mean, either she has herself a powerful role in the rebellion to call such a shot, or she's powerful enough to succeed such a mission and maybe both. But either way, she is obviously of value to the lumina"
"If," Cyran interjected, drawing out the word like a blade across skin. "If she's who you think she is. If you catch her. If the rebellion even gives a shit about her. That's a lot of 'ifs,' Your Highness."
I rounded on him, my voice a low growl. "Do you have a better plan? Or are you content to sit there smoking while the kingdom burns?"
"Enough," the King's voice cut through the tension, low and commanding. The room fell silent again, all eyes on him. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, his expression unreadable.
He held my gaze for a long moment, then spoke with maddening calm. "So be it."
Those three words sent a jolt of satisfaction through me. It wasn't an outright endorsement—he'd never give me that—but it was as close as I'd ever get to approval.
I nodded, suppressing the smirk threatening to curl my lips. "I won't let you down."
"You never do," the King replied, his tone laced with a meaning I couldn't quite place.
The room erupted into motion again, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. Advisors barked orders, marking troop movements on the maps, while generals debated logistics.
"Focus on the trade routes," the King ordered, his voice cutting through the noise like a whip. "Divert supplies from the western provinces to the east. If the rebellion wants a war of attrition, we'll show them how it's done."
"Your Highness, might you allow me to bring forth another matter of concern?" General Ferris carefully asked. To which the King nodded in agreeance.
The tone of his voice set ablaze a certain unease within my chest. Whatever he was about to bring up, was not good, hence, I decided to take my seat at the table.
"What's the issue?" I leaned back in my chair, trying to keep my tone casual, though a knot was already tightening in my chest. I had a bad feeling about this.
General Ferris cleared his throat, leaning forward as he adjusted the dark cuffs of his robes. "You've heard the reports, Your Highness." He glanced around at the advisors, his voice growing tense. "The wards… they're failing. Inexplicably. The magic that holds Aevoria together is slowly eroding."
I clenched my jaw, trying to hold back the surge of frustration building in me. The wards were supposed to be invincible. They were the foundation of this kingdom, the very thing that kept us safe from the outside world, from other kingdoms that would tear us apart if they knew how vulnerable we were. Even I knew, as much as I tried to deny it, that Lyraea had indeed used her siphoning abilities and if this was in fact true, then things were much worse than we had initially thought. But my role is not to instigate worry.
"So what?" I muttered, trying to sound indifferent, though I felt my grip tighten around the armrest of my chair. "We're the strongest kingdom in the land. A few cracks in the wards aren't going to—"
"This isn't just about a few cracks," General Ferris snapped, his voice low and rumbling like distant thunder. He stood up, his broad form towering over the rest of the room. "The wards aren't just crumbling. We've seen lesser magic—blood magic, siphoning—operating within Aevoria's borders. We're talking about powers that are strictly forbidden! Magic that should never have a place here."
Lady Maris, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke up, her voice filled with unease. "What's worse, is that in spite of how much effort we have allocated toward silencing the spread of this news- as per your request, your Highness- there have been reports of people outside the kingdom sensing it. The last thing we need is for the other kingdoms to learn of this. If they do… it could be catastrophic. They will question the integrity of our wards. They will question everything."
As per your request. The King knew about the faltering wards before now and kept me in the dark about it. And by the surprised look on pretty much everyone else in the room except for fucking Cyran, everybody else had no clue of this little detail. But why?
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. My mind raced, but I kept my face impassive. The other kingdoms were not ones to ignore weaknesses. If word got out, they'd use it to their advantage—trying to chip away at Aevoria's dominance. And they wouldn't stop there. Wars would be fought. Lives would be lost. But that's not what worried me most.
I turned to my father, sitting at the end of the table. He hadn't spoken a word yet, his fingers clasped together as he watched the others like a predator sizing up his prey. His face was stoic, unreadable. I knew the kind of man he was—arrogant, dismissive, and far too confident in his own abilities. But this… this was serious. Even he had to see it.
"So, what do you propose, General?" I asked, my voice cutting through the thick silence. "That we panic? Do we hand over Aevoria to the other kingdoms just because some lesser magic is slipping through the cracks?"
Cyran's eyes flicked to my father, but he remained silent for a moment. Pensive.
General Ferris seemed to assess what I had just said before speaking. "The wards are failing, and the other kingdoms are watching us. We must act swiftly before they catch wind of what's happening. If they suspect weakness—if they suspect that we can't protect ourselves from forbidden magic, it will only be a matter of time before they come for us."
"You're overreacting," my father finally spoke, his voice low and filled with disdain. He waved his hand dismissively, as if brushing away the entire conversation. "The wards are just fine. No one's going to notice a little magic slipping through the cracks. A few whispers from peasants aren't enough to shake the foundation of Aevoria. And as for those other kingdoms?" He chuckled darkly, leaning back in his chair. "Let them talk. Let them wonder. They've always been jealous of our power. This isn't the first time they've tried to destabilize us, and it won't be the last."
I felt a surge of anger rise in me, but I fought to keep it contained. My father's arrogance was blinding him. This wasn't something we could ignore. We were teetering on the edge of disaster, and he was too busy playing the game of politics to see it.
"With all due respect sir, You're being naïve," General Ferris barked, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "This isn't some petty dispute over land or resources. This is about the very magic that holds our kingdom together. If the wards fall—if the lesser magic keeps seeping through—we'll be vulnerable to attack, and not just from the other kingdoms. The Malum Veil could strike at any moment. And we'd have no defense against them."
Cyran nodded, his face grim as though in agreeance but i knew better, that prick is playing a game of his own.
"The truth is, we don't know how much longer we can keep the wards intact." Lady Maris continued "They've been failing for months now. Slowly, but steadily. If we don't act quickly, we'll be unable to stop the tide of magic, and when that happens, it won't just be siphoning or blood magic that comes through. Dark magic—true, ancient magic—could flood the kingdom."
"Enough!" My father's voice was a sharp command, his temper flaring. He slammed his fist on the table, making the others flinch. "This is all nothing but fear-mongering. You all have a tendency to see enemies every-fucking-where. We've dealt with this before, and we'll deal with it again. The wards will hold. I'll make sure of it."
"You can't keep pretending that everything is fine, Your Majesty," Lady Maris spoke up, her tone quiet but firm. "The longer we ignore this, the worse it will get. We're already seeing the signs—magic being used in broad daylight. People in the streets talking about it. If the other kingdoms catch wind of this, it'll be too late."
The room fell into silence, the weight of her words settling over us like a suffocating fog. My father's eyes narrowed, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of doubt in them. But he quickly masked it, his lips curling into a sneer.
"I'll handle it," he muttered, as if the matter was already settled. "No one outside Aevoria will find out. I'll make sure of it."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to scream at him to wake up. But I knew it wouldn't make a difference. He'd made up his mind, and no amount of reasoning would change it.
The meeting ended in tense silence, and as I stood to leave, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were heading toward something we couldn't control. Something far darker than any of us were ready for. Lumina be damned.